


Fool's Gold

by stellamorta



Series: Because of Who You Are [1]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Miraculous, Angst, Billionaire!Marinette, Cat!Plagg (the little lovable Camembert-loving shit), F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I don't know, I promise more fluff, Lovesick!Adrien (I guess he is also lovesick in canon), Prodigy!Marinette, Rated T for Mild Language, Snake!Tikki (I know it's weird), i'm just winging this, more tags will be added, sickness/injury
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-01
Updated: 2018-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-12 11:41:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,488
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13546593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellamorta/pseuds/stellamorta
Summary: At age sixteen, Marinette Dupain-Cheng is the one of the most well-known people in the fashion industry. As an early-discovered art prodigy, and founder and CEO of SCARLET Fashions, she must do everything to maintain a perfect image and prove that she really is worth the billions of euros she's made by just following her lifelong dream ... and try not to let her tiny pet snake get trampled daily.She is determined to pave her own road and grab the thing that's hovering just above her head, just out of reach.But after getting shot down, you can only get up so many times before the pain becomes too much.Teen fashion model Adrien Agreste doesn't have it easy, either. He lives in a house of ghosts, with a ruler-of-a-fashion-empire father who he barely even talks to, a dead mother whose name has been deemed taboo in the mansion, and only his gluttonous cat for company.Not to mention the fact that nearly every meticulous schedule of every day is crammed with photoshoots, piano lessons, Chinese lessons, fencing classes, school, etcetera.When they meet, that little spark is there, and soon it will grow into something so much more.





	Fool's Gold

 

_**Sometimes, the mouse pretends to be the cat.** _

**Chapter 1: Enchanted**

The ballroom of Le Grand Paris, generously offered by Mayor André Bourgeois to be the place of the event, sparkled with freshly polished floors and crystal chandeliers. A long table at the far end, covered with white cloth, held dozens of delicate pastries and hors d'oeuvres for snacking on (high-profile socialites _do_ have to eat, you know). Waiters in black-and-white uniforms wove smoothly through the guests, offering fine champagnes and wines to the women in their colorful dresses and the men in their crisp tuxedos.

Among these millionaires and celebrities walked a sixteen-year-old boy with impossibly brilliant green eyes and a shock of bright blond hair (it always seemed to be tousled and bedhead-y, even with ridiculous amounts of very expensive hair gel, driving his stylists up the wall). He smiled politely at everyone, engaging in short periods of small talk and moving on after a few minutes. To anyone who didn’t know him personally, he was the perfect image of chivalry and a good upbringing.

His name was Adrien Agreste, and he was, if anybody even wanted to know, perfectly ~~miserable~~ content.

He hated these events, these “little parties” hosted by wealthy people with only an eye for more money. Sure, he understood: to survive in the harsh world of today, people needed connections and constant gain. And money. Lots and lots of euros.

Still.

Underneath their smiles and pretty words, they speared each other with judging eyes and underhanded compliments.

Adrien sighed, eyeing the table of food.

There was a wide selection of cheeses, ranging from Brie to Gouda to the infamous Camembert.

He was so glad that Plagg, the little shit, had decided to stay home, and that he had thought to spray copious amounts of cologne (“Le Prince Noir,” a name he thought very fitting in several ways) on himself before leaving.

**~*~**

_Adrien knotted his silk tie with practiced ease, glancing behind him at a certain gluttonous black kitten. “Plagg, be good while I’m out, okay?”_

“Meow.”

_“No begging the kitchen staff for Camembert, okay?”_

“Meow.”

_“I’m serious this time.”_

“Meow.”

_“No, really.”_

“Meow.”

_“I know Annette loves you, but there’s gotta be a limit to how much of that awful cheese you can physically eat. And she doesn’t particularly understand that.”_

“Meow?”

_“Yes, that’s right. So no Camembert tonight, got it?”_

“Meow?”

_“Plagg?”_

_Instead of answering, the young cat then decided to “sing.”_

_Which, according to Plagg, was opening his little pink mouth wide and letting out a cacophony of cackling mews and strangled yowls._

_“Plagg.”_

_(Song continues)_

_“Plagg, no. Stop. Stop that right now.”_

_(Song still continues)_

_“No human or animal should ever be forced to listen to that. Stop it.”_

_Plagg’s horrible song followed the young model out of his bedroom and rang ominously in his head as he left the mansion._

**~*~**

Adrien shuddered at the ear-grating memory.

“Adrien.”

He wondered where Plagg had learned such appallingly bad singing skills.

“Adrien.”

_Why did Nathalie force me to come in the first place?_

“Adrien!”

He nearly jumped out of his tuxedo (tailored to his exact measurements, no less) at the sight of his father standing right in front of him, gazing down his nose at him in stern, dignified disapproval.

_Oh, right._

Gabriel Agreste was just a cold, disapproving person in general. The CEO of the immensely successful and famous Agreste Fashion House (AFH) was not a man to be crossed, as many, many designers and models alike had discovered over the years.

Adrien suspected that by now, most only worked for his father because of good pay.

Instead of commenting on Adrien’s impromptu, five-minute-long staring-off-into-space session, Gabriel shook his head and gestured for his son to follow him. “Come, there is someone I wish you to meet. I think she will have an … interesting influence on you.”

Adrien obeyed, with no other choice. He kept his eyes on his father’s back, wondering.

_Interesting?_

And then, _She?_

As they walked, a woman just ahead, making conversation with the mayor, caught Adrien’s eye.

No, not even a woman. A young teenage girl, perhaps his age, with the most captivating beauty he had ever seen.

She wore her inky midnight hair in a curly side ponytail that cascaded over her left shoulder, kept in place with an elegant clip of red feathers. Her porcelain skin glowed with a doll-like daintiness, enhanced with just a touch of makeup. Beautifully cut diamonds dangled from her ears and encircled her slender white neck, dripping over her collarbones. Subtle iridescent eyeshadow and black mascara drew attention to her large, long-lashed eyes, much bluer and much more vivid than any other blue.

Those eyes, the color of bluebells and skies and mirrors and dreams.

And her dress.

A strapless evening gown in a daringly vibrant crimson, with a flowing skirt that slit up one side – just to the knee – and swept behind her. Tiny red gems were stitched all over the fabric, glittering and winking like little stars in a galaxy of their own. If Adrien looked closely enough, he could see swirls of red embroidery as well, the thread glowing with a pearly sheen when the light hit it just right.

Whoever had made this garment possessed a great skill.

And speaking of the dress …

_Haven’t I seen that style somewhere before?_

“Mademoiselle,” Gabriel said, stopping suddenly.

It was so sudden, in fact, that Adrien, distracted by the girl in red, bumped into his father’s back and stumbled over his own feet, nearly – _nearly_ – falling face-first to the marble floor.

For that, he was awarded the famous Agreste Glare™, a quick look that would send the weak-minded to early graves.

The terror of the Agreste Glare™ instantly paled, however, in comparison to the panic Adrien felt when he realized exactly _who_ his father had just addressed.

“Monsieur Agreste.”

The beautiful, red-clad girl looked up at him with her also-very-red lips quirking up in a tiny, suppressed smile.

Adrien froze.

No, literally.

He was a statue. A statue of hardened volcanic rock that was quickly returning to molten lava.

His face, and every other part of his body, was on fire.

“Adrien, this is Mlle. Marinette Dupain-Cheng, founder and CEO of SCARLET Fashions. I’m sure you’ve heard of her; Agreste Fashion House is collaborating with SCARLET on a new fall line. Mlle. Dupain-Cheng, this is my son, Adrien, a model for Agreste’s teen fashions.”

Marinette Dupain-Cheng.

_Ah._

Art prodigy. Began designing at age four, first fashion show when she was seven. Offered increasingly high, well-paying positions at big labels like Esmeralda and Alique. Started a blog called Vermilion at ten. Featured in Paris Fashion Week, eleven.

Fourteen years old: Marinette Dupain-Cheng founded SCARLET Fashions, her very own company.

_Her._

“It’s an incredible honor to meet you, my lady,” someone said. “And may I add, you certainly look ravishing tonight.”

Who could have said something like _that_ in a place like _this_? Especially with his humor-hating father around.

It was then that Adrien realized that nobody had joined their little trio, and that the other two were staring at him, mouths hanging slightly open. Silent.

Second huge revelation:

 _He_ was the one who just said _that_.

In front of his _father_.

To the brilliant, beautiful, amazing fashion _celebrity_ and _prodigy_.

The heat got worse.

_Say something! Do something!_

And so he did.

Swooping down, Adrien gently took one of Marinette’s silk-gloved hands with his own and, marveling at how small and delicate it was, kissed it.

Kissed Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s hand.

What was wrong with his brain?!?!?!?!?!

_That’s it._

He was never going to be able to look his father in the eye again. No, worse than that, he was going to be grounded for life for touching a girl like that … he might as well be chucked into prison for life right now …!

A small giggle pulled him out of the downward spiral.

Slowly, Adrien looked up, and now his jaw dropped.

Marinette’s free hand covered her mouth as she laughed at him, not full-blown guffaws, but graceful peals that sounded like the tinkling of little glass bells. A chrysanthemum-pink blush dusted her lightly freckled cheeks, and those blue eyes were narrowed to slits in her laughter.

“ _Enchanted_ to meet you,” she finally said, catching her breath.

Quoting that sappy English love song.

She was still smiling, grinning in such an unusual way that Adrien himself doubled over in laughter.

That made Marinette start laughing all over again.

A few feet away from the teenagers:

Gabriel Agreste stayed quiet, just staring at the two of them, wondering if he should call the paramedics when they ran out of air.

**~*~**

_Meanwhile, back at the Agreste mansion …_

_“Meow.”_

“Oh, my, Plagg dear! Didn’t get enough Camembert today? Don’t worry, Chef Annette’s got you covered …”

_“Meow.”_

“No need to tell the young master, right?”

_“Meow.”_

“There’s a good boy, there.”

_Thunk._

_“Mrrrow.”_

 


End file.
